let my roots take flight
by foamskyandsea
Summary: The yoga room is dim and fairly full of young and middle-aged women on brightly colored yoga mats. The thermometer says the room is at 100 but if you ask Stiles, he's pretty sure he's never been so hot in his life. That's until the instructor walks in and Stiles wonders how difficult it is to do hot yoga with a boner. AKA: the Sterek hot yoga AU that no one asked for
1. Chapter 1

**let my roots take flight**

Stiles takes one step into the 100° room and immediately tries to backpedal. Lydia's nails into the soft parts of his sides stop him instantly.

"Don't you dare, Stiles. You promised." She doesn't even bother with the puppy eyes that Scott would attempted. She doesn't need them.

"That was before you told me I was going to die of heatstroke. My fragile body isn't built for this kind of stress. Do I look like someone who belongs in a hot yoga class? Do I look like someone who's going to survive this?"

Lydia looks unimpressed. "Don't even think about it, Stiles. We made a deal and even though you already set up your date with Chris doesn't mean I can't call him up and tell him about that time you mistook your fridge for a toilet."

"Okay! Okay, I've got it. I'm here but someone better have the medics on speed dial because there's no way I'm going to survive this."

The yoga room is dim and fairly full of young and middle-aged women on brightly colored yoga mats. The thermometer says the room is at 100° but if you ask Stiles, he's pretty sure he's never been so hot in his life.

That's until the instructor walks in and Stiles wonders how difficult it is to do hot yoga with a boner.

He's definitely not going to survive this.

The instructor is a dark, grumpy looking young man who's probably in his mid-20s. His lack of expression is seriously made up for by his painfully attractive face, arms, hair, chest and…basically everything.

"Too bad yoga isn't a hands-on sport," Stiles mutters under his breath and apparently he doesn't do it nearly quietly enough because he can hear Lydia's snort and Mr. Grumpy Yoga Hottie whips his head around to stare at Stiles.

Oh god, please don't let Mr. Grumpy Yoga Hottie be one of those people who is personally offended when others appreciate him.

Mr. Grumpy Yoga Hottie clears his throat and the murmur of chatter that had been coming from some of the soccer moms stops immediately.

"At the bottoms of your mats," Mr. Grumpy Yoga Hottie turns to faces the class and Stiles mourns the view of his ass that he just lost but feels a little placated when he catches a glimpse of Mr. Hottie's name tag. _Derek_.

Derek. Stiles can definitely work with that.

Derek murmur's "child's pose" and the whole room collapses down to their knees.

Stiles can't see anything but the blue ridges of the mat his forehead is resting on but he hears light footsteps around the room that seem to follow Derek's voice.

"This is an all levels class so please feel free to adjust all poses to your level. Simplify poses or alter to challenge yourself as necessary. Remember to breathe, remember to drink water. Remember child's pose is always available to you. Now if you can all firm your hands into the mat and press up into upward dog, we'll begin. Try to keep up."

Stiles still has his face against the mat but he can hear the smirk in Derek's voice, he doesn't need to see it.

As it turns out, upward-facing dog is pretty uncomfortable with half a boner.

Stiles presses up into downward dog and when there's hands at his hips pulling them up and back he yelps. No one told him hot yoga was interactive.

He's balancing awkwardly on his hands and toes and Derek holds him for a moment to let him get his balance. Stiles is torn between wishing Derek would dig his hands in and grip harder and wishing he'd let go immediately because Stiles knows he is quite literally _dripping_ with sweat. Hopefully that isn't a deal breaker for Derek.

Derek has them go through some fast-paced series of downward dogs, upwards dogs and something called chair that Stiles hates immediately. Stiles is feeling a little shaky and definitely melting from the heat when Derek orders them into something called three-legged dog but sounds more like a gravity-defying sex position.

But he sticks his leg up in the air like a good little yoga student and prays that he doesn't look nearly as ridiculous as he feels. This time though, when Derek places a firm hand on the foot Stiles has in the air Stiles sees him coming. He straightens Stiles knee and puts his body flush against Stiles' left side so that Stiles has a moment to balance in the new position. Wow that hurts, but even if it's upside-down and in strange yoga/sex positions Derek can feel free to press himself up against Stiles anytime he likes. Literally. _Anytime._

"Shit," Stiles mumbles because not only is this painful, but balancing is difficult when you've got sweat dripping down your arms to tickle your fingers.

Derek's hand tightens the moment Stiles says something and if manhandling is always a part of hot yoga, maybe Stiles could learn to like this.

"You okay?" Up close, Derek's voice is deep but quiet and he seems to be genuinely waiting on an answer.

Stiles huffs, "Yeah, I just had no idea this was anatomically possible."

Stiles feels the small huff of laughter that comes from Derek even though he barely hears it.

"If you can, now stack your hips, bend your knee and open. Heel to your ear." Stiles has no idea what that means but luckily Derek doesn't leave and when Derek's hands curl around Stiles' knee and hip, Stiles forgets how to breathe. It is _way_ too easy to imagine Derek's hands on those places under very different circumstances. Like when they're on a bed and Derek's dragging him to right where he wants him and…

Maybe now, while he's upside with Derek balancing half his weight isn't the best time to get hard. Stiles really hopes his shorts are looser than he remembered. He also prays that the sweat that's sticking his shirt to him like glue isn't doing the same thing to his shorts.

Derek leaves Stiles' side after the variety of downward and three-legged dogs and Stiles misses the strong hands and warm body all through the Warrior poses and Triangle poses and all the odd twists.

Stiles is hot and shaky by the time things slow down and when Derek orders them into shoulder stands, Stiles isn't sure he's going the energy left to make it up there.

He's got his hands on his back and his legs sort of up in the air when Derek comes over, straightens them so his feet are right over his hips and then slowly drops Stiles' feet over his head to the floor and _woah_.

"Deaf man's pose," Derek says and Stiles doesn't know what that is but when Derek puts a hand on his back, just above his ass and another on the back of his thighs, Stiles feels _so_ ready to find out.

Derek presses his legs down and his back up and Stiles isn't sure he's going to be able to walk anytime soon.

Eventually Derek lets him release the pose and the class goes through a few more poses before it finishes and after their _Namaste_, Stiles flops back onto his mat in exhaustion.

Lydia kicks his foot but he doesn't open his eyes.

"Go on without me," he groans out, waving a hand.

"I didn't think we had plans to go anywhere..." and _damn_ if that voice isn't way too deep to be Lydia's, "yet."

_Oh hell yeah._ Stiles is so behind that plan. Or in front of it. Or on top of it. Or anywhere near it really.

* * *

A/N:I've got way too much time on my hands. Also, all of the poses are actual poses and yes, some of them can hurt. While I certainly don't claim to be an expert on yoga at all I am familiar with all of these poses. Please remember that while I do have Stiles in pain during some of these poses, there is a difference between pain that comes from strengthening the body and pain that harms the body.


	2. Chapter 2

But then there's a dangerously attractive blonde gliding into the room with a sharp, "I need to speak with you, Derek." She spares a hard glance in Stiles' direction and _shit_. He's pretty sure he just put a bounty on his own head for flirting with Derek. If that's the case, Derek should definitely wear some kind of nametag that says _Hi, my name is Derek. I know I'm painfully attractive but I have a serial killer swimsuit model for a girlfriend so please refrain from flirting._

Actually, now that Stiles thinks about it, he's not sure that would all fit on a nametag.

In any case, Derek follows the blonde out of the room with barely a glance at Stiles and Stiles can practically hear all his hopes and dreams falling to the floor like the drips of sweat still sliding down his neck—and how is he even still sweating.

Stiles gets up and leaves and promises himself that no matter what Lydia tries to bribe him with next time, he definitely won't be coming back to yoga. The last thing he needs is to piss off some guy's girlfriend for staring at the guys ass for too long—even if it is an ass as nice as Derek's.

So Stiles doesn't come back to yoga and he goes on his blind date with Chris and when he ends up sitting on his couch with a tub of ice cream and a bag of Cheetos after a horrendous date—and really he should have known better, anyone named Chris is bound to be a douchebag—he tries very hard not to remember Derek's hands on him.

He tries very hard and fails miserably. At least he tried.

So when Stiles slides and a hand down into his sweats and grips himself a little tighter than usual with memories of Derek's hands on his hips, he promises himself that this will be the one and only time.

Stiles is a lying liar who lies.

* * *

Stiles hates everything about Tuesdays and when he almost spills the coffee he just bought all over some unsuspecting person and instead pours it all over his own hand—and _damn that shit is hot_—it just reaffirms his distaste for Tuesdays.

When he looks up to find Derek of all people staring back at him, Stiles' apology gets caught in his throat.

"Shit, man. I'm sorry. Did I get any coffee on you? If I did I'll totally pay for dry cleaning. I'm sorry."

Derek waves a hand in the air and Stiles isn't sure what that means but after a quick glance up and down Derek, he's fairly sure he managed to spill all the coffee on himself.

"It's fine. You didn't get me. Is your hand alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Umm my hand's fine," Stiles replies as he tries to sneak his hand behind his back because, _no _his hand is definitely not fine but this encounter has already fulfilled his embarrassment quota for the day.

Derek however does not look impressed at his attempt to hide his hand, "Stiles, give me your hand."

For a split second, Stiles is too stunned to do anything but obediently hand Derek his hand.

"I don't remember introducing myself." Stiles is pretty sure that is something he would definitely remember doing.

"I have to read the paperwork anytime someone new joins the class. To check if they have any medical issues or anything."

And oh, that actually makes sense. For a split second Stiles panics because he cannot for the life of him remember what he wrote down but he has a pretty bad habit of not taking paperwork seriously.

Derek wipes Stiles' hand off on some napkins and inspects it carefully and Stiles tries not to melt all over the floor.

Derek's still holding Stiles' hand even though it clearly hasn't suffered any permanent damage and when Stiles opens his mouth to ask if Derek wants to get a cup of coffee with him maybe, the blonde swimsuit model/serial killer appears and puts a hand on Derek's arm.

_Goddamnit_. Stiles should have seen this coming. There was definitely no way this was going to end any other way.

"Ready to go Derek?" the blonde Queen-of-all-things-scary asks and Stiles' is sure she just bared her teeth at him.

Yeah, Stiles _definitely_ should have seen this coming.

Derek nods and turns to leave before turning back to Stiles.

"Come back to yoga."

It isn't a question, it's not really a request either, and Stiles can't really do anything but nod helplessly.

Why does he keep doing this to himself?


End file.
